


Come what may

by JustaTWDfangirl



Series: A wolf and a Colt Python [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Bottom Daryl Dixon, M/M, Rickyl, Top Rick Grimes, butt crack sex, prison era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustaTWDfangirl/pseuds/JustaTWDfangirl
Summary: “Daryl, after this, you still with me?” He stops just before walking out of the room and turns around to find Daryl in the weak light of the bathroom. The hunter is worrying his lips, seeming to have a war in his mind. Rick waits for him.





	Come what may

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel of Fire in our eyes. Again, sorry for any glaring grammatical mistakes - aaand the minor ones too! English is a cool language but hard to learn as well^^  
> Hope you enjoy this!

There is something special about the way Daryl carries himself. Rick has seen him strolling along the prison fence with easy, comfortable manner: his chest would puff out, broad shoulders swaying but not for a second neglecting the restless shadows hovering outside. Or when he's in his attack posture: two arms up high, whole body bouncing back and forth, muscles taught with anticipation, all the while moving his eyes quickly between Rick and the foes, waiting for the ex-deputy's consent to take action. Rick has thought if Daryl has two knifes, which is now he only has one, the hunter would be a damn fine fighter in his ragtag group, not that he isn't at the moment, but... just imagine for a second. Rick muses as he reminds himself to put knife on the item list for the run coming up next week that he’s going to take part in. They are running low on antibiotics, some tools for the beat-up hatchback they found a week ago  _and_ toiletries, thanks to Michonne's not-so-subtle reminder this morning, if she didn't prod Rick about it for what feels like hours he's pretty sure no one in his family will mind washing their hair with merely water and wiping their asses with thrown-away newspapers in the administration room.

Old Hershel has asked Rick if he really wanted to go or if it's out of a sense of obligation. Rick has shaken his head, thankful that the others are more than understanding when he decided to step down from the leader role for a while. Besides, Glenn although not exactly having the quality of leadership in him, he is doing a decent job keeping things together along with the board. Truth be told, Rick's limbs are growing more and more jittery these days, so he figures his other half needs to hang out a bit too. You can only dig around in the dirt and stab walkers through the fence for so long.

The sky has only started to turn into an ominous hue of orange and dark blue when Daryl comes back from his hunt, his steps uncharacteristically heavy, eyes downcast and with a glance at his shoulders – nothing but his familiar crossbow and a dead quail - Rick knows the hunter didn't have much luck out there today. Maggie rushes out to open the gate and quickly notices the situation as Daryl goes past her and into the yard with a single grunt. She gazes at Rick standing next to his crop and shrugs hesitantly then turns back to the fence to stab walkers with a few others. Carl who has stood up from a makeshift chair near the front building has to stop his racing towards the hunter to show him his handmade trap that Daryl has taught him several days ago.

As the boy sullenly backs away, Rick feels bad for his son for encountering a moody Daryl, but he can’t bring himself to blame the other man. Daryl has always put it all on himself to provide for the group, a burden he doesn't want to share, as a way of proving his stance in the fold. He'll beat himself up if the food isn't enough for everyone.

"Daryl," Rick calls, letting his voice louder than usual, otherwise Daryl would just pretend not to hear it and keep walking. The ex-deputy won't have it though, not today.

Daryl's shoulders stiffen up, his head hanging lower, heels stabbing the concrete. He looks over his shoulder with a huff ruffling his too long bangs. "What?" 

Letting the trowel fall to the ground with a soft 'thud', Rick goes back to address himself to the hunter. "Guess what are we gonna have for dinner?" He raises his right hand which is holding a half-yellow-half-red tomato up for Daryl to see while smiling faintly. "Tomato soup. No more Heinz Beanz." 

After a short while, Daryl's pale blue eyes soften somewhat before he pads over to Rick, an arm sweeping up his sweaty forehead. The sun going down hasn't stopped the heat from stubbornly staying in the air. Rick isn't sure what day is today exactly, but Beth has been keeping track of the calendar and told them it's late August. Hot and humid, Georgia all along. He can feel his own shirt stick to his back and stomach, his feet stuffy in his worn cowboy boots. Rick absentmindedly peels the offensive material off his torso with his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Daryl's attention follow the movement, up to his damp chest peeking out from the collar before finally land on his face, sees his Adam's apple bob quietly.

Rick uses his forearm to clean the sweat under his chin, suddenly feeling warmer than before, as Daryl makes the gesture for him to throw the tomato over. The hunter blows on the fleshy skin before taking a bite on the red side.

"Still a little green, but edible." Daryl murmurs. Distracted by the strong jaw chewing away and dirty, glistening biceps flexing to wipe off a stray rivulet of juice, Rick hums and shifts his stance, willing the ball of heat in his lower abdomen to cool down.

"Gotta go ta gut this lil' guy, or the meat is gonna be stale." Daryl swings the quail in front of him before being startled by a voice behind.

"And don't forget to grab a shower as well, you stink to high heaven." Carol leans in close to Daryl and feigns to smell him as he squints back at her unnervingly. If there is a person who can actually sneak up on Daryl and pat him on the shoulder before having a crossbow steered towards one of their eye sockets, it can possibly be the one and only Carol. If she decides to slip into your camp at night and use your own toothpick as a tinder to roast you and your pals alive with a can of gasoline, surely no one would be the wiser.

"Whatever woman."Grumbles Daryl. Carol perks her eyebrows up, more amused than intimidated. So even a sweaty, smiling Rick can't smooth the hunter's ruffled feathers this time, she thinks as Daryl marches off, leaving the dirt of the forest on the cement ground.

"Gruff, isn't he?" She remarks, turning to Rick with hands on her slender hips. "Must be putting himself through hell again if our stomachs don't hold more than a few spoons of baked beans."

"Yeah. Still better than he shutting himself off though. But let me see what I can do." Rick sighs, rubbing his stiff wrist repeatedly.

"Oh, trust me Rick, there is a whole lot of _things_ you can do with him." Carol literally regards him with a straight face, but still the implication makes his own face heat up. There’s no way she didn't pick up on the tension between him and Daryl.Try as he might, he can't conceal anything from the grey-haired woman's observation. Not that he's ashamed of his feelings for Daryl, but while things haven't been sorted out, it's best to keep this... whatever this is between him and Daryl under wraps.  

Rick chokes out an awkward laugh.

"And you too, don't think of settling down to the table when you look just like a puppy rolling in the mud." After giving him an admonishing scowl, she saunters away to do whatever she was doing earlier, seeming pleased with herself.

These few weeks have gone by rather peacefully. He and Daryl have come back from their run with a fair amount of supplies and this green stuffed toy for Judith that the hunter has insisted on bringing back. They couldn't find some of the gears the Woodbury folks have asked them to search for, but no one has really complained. Since even though the Woodburians have been welcomed to stay in the prison, a number of them is still cautious around Rick and his group. He hopes someday they’ll understand that he won't do anything harmful to them, only if need be.

Also at the night of the day they came back, no one has said a word when Daryl has recoiled so fast as his leg has touched Rick's under the dinner table causing his knee to bang on the underside of it. Loudly. Michonne has snorted when he has stood up in a hurry and scurried out of the cafeteria area, mumbling about going to sharpen his knife. The hunter just did it like two days ago, but Rick hasn't uttered anything either.

All he and Daryl have shared together is a kiss in the car, a real hot kiss that has made Rick wound up at night when his mind was too restless to sleep and decidedly stumbled to it. And that's all it takes for them to have this kind of odd atmosphere wrapping around that Rick nearly, _nearly_ , regrets kissing him because he has missed Daryl's familiar companionship. The hunter's light pat on his stomach is sometimes the highlight of the day, days when the sky is gloomy and stilled, or especially times when Rick has felt less of a man, a leader and started to doubt himself. Daryl didn't say anything, but those touches alone told Rick,  _You're doing fine Rick, keep going, everything is okay. I'm still with ya._

It stays as a wonder to him how Daryl was able to become so bold when they're in that car. Smirked at him like  _that._

Instead of ignoring Carol's command and then being given her best stink eye throughout the dinner, Rick knows better so he decides to take a quick shower. Besides, some cool water will do his sore muscles good. As he treads down the dull corridor with clean clothes clutched in one hand, he hears the vague sound of running water being turn off. Not sure if it's alright to step in, he knocks on the door. “Who’s in there?”

Several thudding sounds follow his inquiry, then cries out Glenn’s voice. “Me. And a heap of dirty, stinky ass clothes.”

Rick shakes his head amusedly before pushing open the door. Glenn is nimbly putting on his shirt while the ex-deputy crosses the room to a shower head, working on taking off his own.

“Rick? Michonne said she found out some trails yesterday. It's kinda dangerous for her to hang out there on her own, so I’m thinking if you can you know, recruit one or two more folks to back her up?” Glenn asks, rubbing the back of his wet head. He knows the new residents look to the ex-deputy more when it comes to safety problem. He’s totally fine with that. Rick has it in him anyway, that's why they have followed him this long and are still alive. Not perfectly safe and sound, but alive. And that is a big deal nowadays.

“Sure, no problem. I'll talk to some of the trustable ones I know.” Rick nods to him, already scanning over several faces he can lay belief on. 

Glenn, being agile as he is, has gone before Rick can get out of his  pondering. Finishing unbuttoning his tan shirt and dropping it onto the sink, he turns to unbuckle the belt. When his fingers make contact with his crotch, Rick lets out a content sigh.

 _Christ_ , even that small friction feels good. When he has already had a taste of what Daryl's lips feels like against his own after a long time wanting him, it's downright torturous to see him running around but knowing Rick can't have him again, not anytime soon, well, if ever with the way the hunter is avoiding him. So every time Daryl bends down to pick up something or goes back from a hunt, sweaty and flushed from exertion, Rick has to try his damnedest not to jog over to kiss him hard on the mouth in front of God and everyone before dragging the hunter to somewhere more private to pull his pants down and give him the best damn BJ Rick can manage. Inexperienced as he is on the subject, he's still willing to try, for Daryl.

Now that he’s imagining it, his dick is starting to stiffen in its confinement. Rick presses his palm against his groin, groaning at the sensation. Knowing he can't wait until everyone’s asleep, Rick decides to rub one out right here or he’ll walk around funnily with a hard-on for the rest of the day.

Looking around to make sure he's alone, no sneaky kid, no peeping Tom on the small window up high, he slides his belt all the way out then places it next to where his shirt lays. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that the bathroom door isn't closed completely. Glenn, being agile as he is, has forgotten to shut the door again.

Sighing, Rick crosses the room once more and is reaching out to grasp the doorknob when Daryl barrels in like a whirlwind with fresh clothes in one hand.

“Shit. Sorry.” The hunter stuttered, ready to turn around to flee. But Rick has had enough time to collect himself so he takes hold of Daryl’s wrist quickly, halting his running off.

“It's fine. Daryl. I'm only staying for a quick shower.” He says, his heart ramming in his chest. Seeing he other’s nostrils flare positively, Rick is quite certain that Daryl is trying to scent him and the smell of his sweat with how close they are standing together. He can smell Daryl's too, musky and fresh and manly, with that small touch of orange again and damned if that doesn't arouse Rick all the more. _God,_ he's so intoxicating.

If Daryl’s always calm and calculated like a predator in every other situation, right now he’s at a loss about what to do. His steel blue eyes flick between Rick’s hold on his wrist and the outline of Rick's obvious arousal for him. Daryl swallows thickly, can't help himself but follow the treasure trail on the other's firm stomach down to the 'v' of his hips which is blocked by the dark jeans the ex-deputy's wearing.

“Daryl, please don't run away.” Rick whispers in his ear, his breath heavy and hot on Daryl's neck. It sends an electrical jolt through his whole body, and almost forces a whimper out of his lips.

"I... I don't know what I'm doin' anymore." He tells Rick. The older man pulls away just a bit, seeming to roll something over in his head and finally looking straight into his eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

Although Daryl is more than a little nervous, right now it's the last thing he wants.

"No." He shakes his head, cheeks burning.

"Alright." Rick nods slowly and reaches out a hand to close the door behind them, the ‘click’ sound of the latch bolt falling into place resounding in the room that now occupied by only him, Rick and the promises in the air.

 _I'm really doing this right now_. His fervent mind supplies. Then in the blink of an eye, Daryl finds himself being pressed up against the wall with Rick's leg finding it way between his thighs, his clothes leaving loose hand to fall to the ground. Daryl's first instinct is to jump, but Rick's insistent hands grab his hips and effectively still his jerking. “Shh... I'll never hurt you Daryl, you know that.”

Rick is using that voice on him, a voice made to soothe a skittish animal. And once again, it works like a charm, although his fingers are still clenching and unclenching nervously on the other's naked shoulders. With a subtle sway of his feet, Rick leans in carefully and starts moving his lips slowly over Daryl's skin, kissing his eyelid, his warm cheek before laying his forehead against Daryl's. Blue eyes flick down to thin lips, asking for permission.

Daryl runs his tongue over his lower lip.

The kiss they've shared before is still vivid in his mind, all the nips and licks and sucks. It was so damn hot that he had to jerk off to it a few times with two fingers stuffed in his mouth, trying to pretend it was Rick's tongue instead. Trying hard to blot out those embarrassing memories of his own actions, Daryl takes a deep breath and jerks his chin, giving away the silent ‘ _go on_ '. 

This time though, Rick's kiss is everything but rough.

Soft presses of lips on lips with the small sound of breathing weave through the narrow space between them. Rick's beard scratches his chin, reminding him he's doing this with a man, but the feeling of kissing Rick overpowers all of his experiences in the past. Some girls Merle and his asshole friends shove his way, or some fumblings in the dark of an alley behind a gay bar, nothing special. Not like the way the older man is kissing him, so good, so tender, making him feels like he's being treasured. Being _loved_.

They break away to catch their breath. Daryl, flushed with the sudden wave of affection for the other man, leans forward to try to have Rick's mouth on his again. Rick chuckles, the pretty sound falling from his lips halted by the way Daryl keeps wiggling in place, causing their hardening members to rub together, the layers of clothing can't do anything to hide the fact that they're both aroused 'cause of the closeness and the mere kiss earlier.

There's a broken sound coming out of Rick's mouth, and his fingers which have stayed still on Daryl's hips ever since start to thread under the shirt. Large palms get hold of his lower body and just like that Rick tentatively presses his hips against him and Daryl groans when he feels Rick's erection through their clothes, hot and incredibly hard. As much as he loves soft, loving kisses, the sight of the other going wild over him makes Daryl whimper breathlessly, hands finding purchase on Rick’s curls and neck, pulling him closer and closer.

Rick captures his mouth in a deep kiss, his hands moving up to touch the skin on Daryl's back and the hunter grunts, not wanting Rick to touch his scarred back. The other stills his movement in a fraction of second when realization is dawned on him, but he makes no comment about it and instead runs his hands down to grab the hunter's backside and continues to undulating sensually with the perfect rolls of his hips. The heavy breathing, the erotic feels of lips and tongues, the wet sound of saliva-coated lips smacking together and the slides of their clothes cocks against each other together will soon, _way too soon_ make Daryl come right then and there in his pants if the other man decides to carry on.

“Rick, I'm gonna.... _fuck_...” He pants in between kisses. It embarrasses him how fast he's about to reach his climax, but the sensation of having his mouth and cock being ravished at the same time by Rick is too much for him to bear.

Suddenly, every sweet stimulation leaves him all together when Rick pulls away after giving his tongue a final suck. A whine makes it way out of Daryl's kiss-swollen lips from the abrupt loss of pleasure. Rick appeases him with a soft peck, his fingers deftly undo the hunter's pants and let it fall around his knees, revealing his cock which is perking up to call for attention. No underwear underneath because he hates it. He and Rick are about two of the last people to shower before dinner, but if his family goes looking for them because of their long absence, it'll be hell of a problem. So stark-naked sex has to be saved for another time, if Rick wants to continue what they’re doing. Daryl hopes he does. The truth is, he's never good at this kind of things. Love and sex have never gone along in his world so when both of them rush at him at the same time, like right now, it absolutely scares the hell out of him. But Rick is putting small kisses on his shoulder, and they calm his racing heart a little bit.    

“Turn around, sweetheart.” Rick prompts, rubbing the younger man's neck with his thumb, his breath heavier than normal. The words sounds so damn good in that Southern drawl that he's grown to love that Daryl almost forgets what Rick has told him to do. The ex-deputy's blue eyes are hazy, full of want and of something else that Daryl is now too unfocused to be able to decipher. The wall is damp and cool, contrary to his burning cheek when he presses his face against it. Behind him, Rick is working on his own pants, grunting in haste making the corner of the archer’s mouth lift up just-so.

There's this warm, wet feeling on his ass. Daryl jolts when something is dripping on his skin, down to the crack of his ass. He cranes his neck to see behind him. “The hell’s that?”

Rick answers by rubbing Daryl's side soothingly then lifts his head to smile at him, his curls damp with sweat. "We don't have lube." Rick shrugs one shoulder. Daryl can feel it dripping down his balls and is about to ask what the older man is up to when Rick holds his hip steady with one hand, the other bring down to help guiding his cock to the place between his ass cheeks.

Daryl gasps, his mind running short-circuited knowing Rick's intention. A slick hand grabs his cock firmly and holy shit, it's _Rick's_ spit, on _his_ dick. Rick pushes foward once, dragging the underside of his cock through the incredible surround of naked skin he found there. He starts up a rythm, gliding up and down smoothly, sometimes stopping to press himself flat against Daryl and reveling in the shocked little sounds the hunter makes everytime he does it.

Daryl grasps the arm pumping away on his erection, body bouncing with the force of Rick fucking him from behind. The ex-deputy's chest sticks to his back while Daryl’s moaning, swearing at the perfect fiction created by the callous, hard-working hand. He looks down in time to see the thumb wiping the moisture seeping out from his slit and using it to ease the way. Foggy cloud surrounds Daryl's mind, he can't think of anything except for the heat between their bodies, the smell of sex and the intense feeling of Rick's cock gliding over and over on his sensitive hole.

 _Fuck_ , he's definitely not going to last long with how they're going. Rick lays his forehead on his shoulder, focusing on every thrust that makes their skins slap against each other. “Daryl....Daryl...” He chants, sounding utterly wrecked and desperated, hand tightening on Daryl's hip. "Always so good to me, so good... _ah..."_

Rick's grasp on his cock loosens slightly when he almost reaches climax. The older man tenses up behind him, his thrusts more urgent and uncoordinated. And with a muffled groan suppressed by Daryl's shoulder, Rick is already coming, spurting jets of come on his lower back and asshole. The hand then increases its speed, stroking and pumping his hard length until Daryl can't hold back anymore and lets himself fall over the edge as well, crying out a curse and painting the wall white with his release.

They stay still until they manage to catch their breath, both sated and content where they are. Rick stares at the come-covered pucker and licks his dry lips, willing himself to bring their next intimate moment to somewhere else that has at least a bed. And some lube, yes that's about right.

Just then, a knock on the door right next to where they're standing startles them both.

“Rick? Daryl?” It's Carol. She probably is searching for them to call them for dinner.

Daryl's panic eyes find his steady blue ones in the dim lightning. Rick clears his throat and replies with a relatively calm voice. “Only me.”

“Oh, you seen Daryl anywhere?” She sounds downright concerned. She may have come to think one or both of them are in the bathroom, so it's not like they’re exposed. He doesn't mind to tell his family about him and Daryl, but if the hunter is not ready for it, he'll willingly wait. Rick chances a glance at the other, who is quickly wearing his jeans back on like himself and can't help but grin. “He must be in his cell moping over the hunt today. Have you tried to search up there?”

Daryl glances at him through his eyelashes. 

“Yes, but no, I still don't see him.” Carol’s scowl can be seen through the layer of the door. “I'll keep looking then. And hurry up Rick, food's ready.“ Her voice grows smaller as she walks off.

When they no longer hear Carol's footsteps padding away, Rick slowly reaches out to touch Daryl's elbow. When the other doesn't really react, he whispers lowly to him. “Hey, people are thankful for the food you bring home, Daryl.”

Daryl turns his head around to look at him contemplatively at the word ‘home', but finally mutters. “Our ‘home’ has dozens of mouths to feed but all I bring back today’s one fuckin' quail.”

“Hmm, I think the gunshots from the war probably have scared the animals off the land. Maybe they'll come back later.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Daryl shrugs, looking anywhere but him.

Rick tilts his head, asking for the hunter's attention. “Hey. There's nothing with your hunting skill, Daryl. Hell, if we're all out there hunting, you’d still end up having more games than the rest of us combined. Just an unlucky day is all. You know that.”

Searching for the truth in the other’s eyes and having found it finally, Daryl gives him a subtle nod and bends down to pick up his clothes.

“Now I have ta clean myself up, get out of here.” Daryl says, although his inside is all mellow. The older man’s face relaxes into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, then he nods and steps away to fetch his own shirt.

"Guess I really did make a mess on you huh?" Daryl sends daggers at him with his eyes, actually blushing.

Rick will have to take a shower later because people are looking for them, best not to raise any suspicion with them both walking out of the bathroom. But he doesn't mind, not a tiny bit when Daryl looks a lot better than he did a few hours ago, comfortable and in control. But he can't help but wonder, after this moment, will the younger man run away again and deny what they have had? He will take what Daryl willingly gives him, but he wants to try and bargain just a little more, even if what he gets back in the end are only bits and pieces.

“Daryl, after this, you still with me?” 

Behind the streams of light coming from the small window up high are Rick's gleaming blue eyes, the dark swallowing half of his feature. But Daryl isn't so scared anymore. The man has had show him nothing but gentleness and patience all this time. The fear of Rick finding out about his flaws is no longer glooming over him like before. Daryl's tired of ignoring his heart telling him where he belongs, tired of telling himself that every nerve in his mind and body doesn't light up like the star on a damn Christmas tree every time he's around Rick. The halo around the ex-deputy is like the sunlight that shines warmly on him, showing him the right way to go and keeping him from feeling lost.

Merle will call him a lovesick puppy that crazes for caresses, but he doesn't want to hear it. One thing Daryl knows is, if Rick ever looks over his shoulder, he'll find Daryl standing right there to back him up. Like always.

"Yes, I'm with ya."


End file.
